A Dance to Remember
by bookworm2dance
Summary: The team discovers there is a softer side to the tough assassin. No real spoilers.


**This is just a random story I have had in my head. As you may be able to tell from my name, I love to dance and this is an oneshot which could take place any episode after Bait.**

**The words in Italics are Ballet Terms which are French (and after dancing for almost 14 years I know that they are correct). I will put a glossary in at the end.**

Ziva pushed her aching muscles as she prepared to do it again. With the slow beat of the music she lifted her leg up beside her ear, where she held it for two agonising minutes. After counting out the beats, she breathed a sigh of relief and lowered her leg into a _tendú_ and then closed in first position

Satisfied that she had warmed her muscles up, she walked over to a chair in the corner of the room, where she sat down. Opening up a drawer beside her, she took out a pair of _pointe shoes _and eased her feet into them.

After tying the ribbons, she stood up and grimaced as she put her full weight onto her toes. She went back to the _barre_ to do some gentle warm up exercises for her feet before taking a spot in the middle of the room.

As she had been taught so many years ago, she picked a spot in front of her, prepared and then went for it. As she spun round in her _fouétte_ she was focused on nothing else but getting the angle of her head right and making sure her foot hit the rightposition – just touching the hollow of her knee_._

She managed a total of 28 turns before her concentration wavered and she had to stop, but she was exhilarated, until she heard the doorbell. Looking at her watch, a feeling of dread washed over her. She had invited the team over for dinner and that would be them at the door. How had she let it get so late?

There was no time to change and she switched off _Tchaikovsky, the Nutcracker_ and clumped down the hall to answer the door as the bell rang again. The team stared open mouthed at her sweaty appearance. Her hair was tied back in a smooth bun and she was wearing a deep purple leotard, footless pink tights and pink satin _pointe shoes._

The team looked at her in stunned silence. She invited them in before saying that she would be back in a few minutes, she just needed to get changed. Muttering Hebrew curses under her breath she stood under the steaming water of her shower. After stepping out she changed into a pair of black trousers and a lilac blouse. Rummaging around in a drawer, she realised she didn't have a clean pair of socks, and all her shoes were in the living-room. Well, she thought, they are bound to see them sometime.

She walked down the hallway, and into the kitchen were the rest of the team was standing. Immediately she went to check the dinner she was cooking – lamb, baked spuds and a side of cabbage, baby carrots, peas and sweetcorn. There was also a trifle setting in the fridge.

Ziva was stalling, and she knew it. She could sense the team's open mouthed stares behind her back. Turning round she had not even opened her mouth before Abby butted in...

"We didn't know you could dance. How long have you danced? Why didn't you tell us? Oh My God, Why don't you perform at the NCIS Christmas talent competition?"

"Which one should I answer first?"

"All of them!"

"I have taken dance lessons since I was four. It's a secret and it's a secret. My mother wanted me to start and after she died my father allowed me to continue because it would teach me discipline."

"Well why is it a secret?" Abby demanded.

"Would you have believed that the Mossad assassin does ballet, dancing to _Tchaikovsky, _in her spare time?"

She didn't reply and so Ziva served the meal. About half way through Tony excused himself, went to the bathroom and came back looking very smug about something. Ziva hoped he had not been snooping. The dancing was not brought up again. After dinner everyone went through to the living room.

Ziva was last into the room, carrying a tray of coffee and biscuits. She stopped dead. Her pointe shoes were sitting on the only available seat left in the room, meaning that she would have to acknowledge them.

As she went to move them the whole team started to badger her – asking her to show them some moves. She sighed. Knowing that as Gibbs had joined in there was no way she was getting out of it.

She sat down, and for the second time that day she eased her feet into her pointe shoes. Ziva felt the silence change imperceptibly around her, and knew that they were looking at her feet. After years of jamming her feet into pointe shoes, they were hopelessly bent and crippled. They were scared from blisters, bruised black and purple from jumps and her nails were thick and yellow.

She stood up and did a short demonstration including _sautés, pas de chat _and a variety of _echappe's. _She loved to dance, and despite the pain, she found it liberating.

When she had finished, the team was silent for a moment and then they burst into applause. Ziva wondered how she ever could have doubted them.

_echappe's = e-shap-ay = to escape, _

_pas de chat = pa=day-sha = step of the cat_

_sautés = so-tay = to jump_

_Tchaikovsky= a famous Russian composer. He composed music for some of the most famous dancers in the world such as the Nutcracker and Swan Lake_

_pointe shoes = the hard ended shoes that ballerinas wear to dance on the tips of their toes_

_tendú = ton-do = to stretch_

_fouétte = fwe-tay = a turn on one leg done many times and using the momentum of the working leg to carry you round. (the black swan in swan lake does 30!)_

**Okay, thanks for reading. I know it ends kind of abruptly but I just could not think of a good ending. Please review – I accept them from anonymous people so nobody has any excuse.**

**I will get back to my other two stories but I don't know if people are all that interested because I'm just not getting my reviews. But... I am off for a week so if enough people review I promise to update them!**

**Cathy XXX**


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